Shattered
by whispered love 13
Summary: A one shot about Natasha's thoughts about pregnancy and children as she and Clint are waiting for the test results of the pregnancy. ClintxNatasha. Clintasha


A/N: A Clintasha oneshot that I thought of after watching an episode of HIMYM (the one where Robin finds out that she can't have kids). Hope you Avengers/Clintasha lovers like :)**  
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**Shattered**

_Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding_

_Fall into your sunlight_

_The future's open wide beyond believing_

_To know why hope dies_

The first time that I came face to face with a baby was when I was seventeen years old. I was a new recruiter for the Russian espionage KGB, and my first mission was to find a president's baby and leave a message. I looked down at it, sleeping with both of its tiny arms raised up as if to tell me it surrendered. Helpless and innocent. I put a bullet through its head with the silencer I was given, and slipped out before the parents would wake up. I remember the smell of baby shampoo and new diapers. That smell alone haunted me for the days to come after I did it. That was why I never took a case that involved children again, young, infant or even teenager. I didn't want to take away something so innocent again. I had red in my ledger and no matter how much I scrubbed, that mark was a permanent stain, forever embedded.

The second time I had to swallow the pheromones of the innocent blood I spilled in my hands to touch and play with Pepper and Tony's baby girl Stephanie. She had blueberry eyes, soft pink fingers and toes, and was too small at the moment to fit into Tony's Black Sabbath shirt. She looked at me with glistening eyes and slowly cried as I tried to coo her. It was not working as well as I would have hoped, and she struggled to free herself from my grip. I didn't know what I was doing to make it cry and fuss. Finally, Stephanie gave up on me and Pepper took her from my hands to cuddle and console the poor thing. That was when I realized I would be a terrible mother, and vowed I would not willingly have a child.

"We will take the pee sample to see if you are pregnant and then the doctor will come see you in a few minutes Ms. Romanov," the nurse said as she collected the cylinder of my urine and walked out of the room, leaving Clint and me alone in the white room that was overpowered by the smell of sanitizer.

"Whatever happens, we will work this out," Clint said, "Who knows, it could just be a false alarm."

"Yeah," I said. I looked down feeling embarrassed. I didn't expect any time that we slept together would result in us being dragged into a white room to have a doctor tell us that we are expecting a child.

What would SHIELD say? Nick Fury? Telling me that I would have to take a permanent leave of absence to care for the child. We would have to relocate on a regular basis, so the child would have no real social life. Pretty soon he or she would resent me and call me an unfit mother and I would not be able to do anything about it.

I can't stress enough how much I don't want kids. It's not that I can't stand them because I love Tony and Pepper's kid, with her bright blue orbs, and her tiny hands and little pink elephant socks. I see Pepper's tired face as she walks over to the cradle while Jarvis programs the cradle to rock back and forth. She was huge towards the last stages of pregnancy. I can only imagine a bulge like that on my figure and feel a bit uneasy. For me to personally carry all that weight in my uterus is something that I don't personally feel like going through. And I respect any woman, especially Pepper Potts, who thinks differently and goes through pregnancy.

But it is a fantasy I don't mind bringing up in my mind. To play around with, like an alternate universe. Not even Clint knows the thoughts about children that go through my head. And like many of those other times, I am thrown back and begin waiting and daydreaming with both anticipation and joy, while Clint reassures me with denial after denial towards my late period. Initially, it starts with my stern refusal of pregnancy, but it gradually escalates towards something incomprehensible in my mind.

If I ever decide to have a child, I know that I would want Clint to help me raise it. He would be a strong and devoted father, sort of like Tony, but less doting, and more stern. His smiles would infiltrate the baby room at all times. He would bathe them and sing them to sleep while I would warm up a bottle to feed them with. He would teach them to ride the bike, scold them when the walls would get covered in green crayon, and apologize for missing their play or soccer game. I would have a perfect husband and a lovable father. A father that would never leave his children. A father that would never leave me. A father that would love me as much as I love him.

I then think about what our child would look like. Would they have blue and hazel eyes like mine? Fiery red hair? Blonde like his father's? Or her father's? Would they like Disney movies and demand us to take them to the park on Sundays with a chocolate Lab named Barkley?

Initially I imagine a face like Tony and Pepper's baby girl. Closed eyes in a serenity that is all their own. Unaware of the hardships and the pain. Just eating, sleeping, and crying all day. I cradle my belly and picture how I would look. How my stomach would descend in obvious fanfare declaring that I am fertile and ready to release my child into this cruel world.

I them start to think about names. If its a girl, I want her name to be Anastasia, after the grand duchess and daughter of czar Nicolas II. I wouldn't hesitate to give her everything that she wants, and knowing Clint, he would oblige to her every whim like I would. We would fight over who would feed her in the middle of the night, and argue over who would need to change her diaper. She would hate it if we called her Ana, and Clint would call her duchess as a cute nickname while her red fiery hair was down in ringlets surrounding her face with ardor, making it illustrious as a river. I imagine her hair would bounce as she ran, her cheeks would inflame in the summer heat, and her eyes would match Clint's soft eyes like when he speaks, but determined and driven to hit any mark. She would like the colors yellow and baby blue and openly detest pink, so she would wear purple for ballet practice.

I am not as excited for having a boy, but I have a name picked out nonetheless. If it were a boy, he would be named Alexei, or Alex for short. I can imagine him just like Clint, blonde, tan skin, but thinner, waiting to fill out as soon as he hit puberty, and surpass us in height. His eyes would be a dark gray, full of strong willful intent to carry out any leadership position. He would look for us in the stands to make sure that we went to his games, and cry if we wouldn't go. I can imagine he would have a more compassionate side than either me or Clint, and would not want to harm anyone or anything, and would get used to the idea that his parents are a couple of master assassins. It would be a tough thing to get used to. His favorite shirts would be the ones that looked like it was two shirts in one, a long sleeve underneath a short sleeve shirt, and he would have a pair of black converse he would never throw away. I would have to sneak into his room to dispose of the foul smelling foot covers. He would always want to spend more time with Clint than with me, which I would show indifference and an apathetic tone, but secretly, I would feel wounded to think that our son had a favorite parent.

All those thoughts and more were starting to make me smile, so much that Clint looked over at my brief moment of bliss. It was possible, raising a child with Clint. It was starting to become more obvious while we wait for the results I can't help but have second thoughts towards having a baby.

"What is it Tasha?" he said. I glanced up at him and noticed my smile attracted him closer to me, like a strong gravitational pull.

"I am just thinking," I said, but the smile was starting to overpower any thought I had about Anastasia or Alexei. It was the fact that I could have either one of them inside me and latching on within my walls, ready to reproduce its molecular structure and cause me morning sickness. I was starting to look forward for morning sicknesses, if it meant the baby would be healthy. "What if I was pregnant?"

"Are you serious right now?" he said. I let out a small laugh as I let out the possibility towards having a child with the man that I loved. "You want one?"

"Why, don't you?" I said, starting to feel protective, and encasing my stomach again in between my fingers.

"Come on Tasha," he said, "We couldn't even if we wanted to, we have too much bad blood to have one. Our jobs would be a danger to them." Clint grabbed my hands softly, "But if we do end up having one right now at this very moment, I will be the happiest I have ever been."

"Really?" I said, and his face told me the biggest yes I had ever seen. He was just as excited, if not, more than I was.

"Good morning Ms. Romanov," the doctor said as he walked in, "I have your results."

I took a deep breath as Clint walked over to my side. I tried hiding a smile, but I failed. I was too excited for my own good, and the way Clint's grip was on my shoulder, he was just as excited to hear the news. To think that I would be back in a few months to determine the sex of the baby. I would have to let Pepper know so that I could borrow some baby books.

"You are not pregnant, Ms. Romanov," he said bluntly, "This was just a false alarm."

"Oh," I said.

"Now is this your husband?" he asked as his blue ballpoint pen aimed in Clint's direction. I softly shook my head side to side. I didn't know why but it was difficult forming coherent and audible sentences. "All right, may you please excuse us? There are just a few pieces of information that I need to inform her about." Clint cleared his throat.

"Whatever it is, I am sure she wouldn't mind if I was here to listen to it."

"Is this all right with you Ms. Romanov?" he asked me. I looked at Clint and sighed.

"Yes," I said.

"Okay then," he said as he flipped open the manila folder with my information, "It seems that we will need you to come back to run some further tests. Your urine was tested and picked up on something strange, so to make sure we will be needing a blood sample, and have your results in a few days, but from what can be seen in the sample is a serious case of Endometriosis. This is a problem in which to put in lamest terms-"

"I can't have a baby," I said, speaking my thoughts. The doctor nodded.

"Now if you are looking forward to having a baby, we have other methods for people to still have a family. There is surrogacy, adoption, and possible fertility treatments that could give you a chance to have a child, if you are interested."

"No thank you doctor," I said, finding a monotonous voice within myself, "This was the news that we were waiting for. Thank you."

The doctor nodded and told us if we had further questions we could ask the nurses and then soon departed, leaving Clint and me alone in the white room. I changed back into my regular clothes as Clint looked away and we left the room.

I decided as soon as we left the hospital that I would bury the thoughts of Anastasia and Alexei forever in the white room. I would never bring them as close to my heart as I did while I was in the white hospital room on top of the crinkling paper covering the gray hospital mat in the starched patient clothes with abstract shapes. My first and only profession is assassin, not mother. I shouldn't want children. Why would I have children? Why should I be blessed to have a child with a man that I love?

"Tasha, why are you crying?" Clint asked we reached the car.

"No reason," I said, closing the door and brushing the tears with the back of my hand.

I was crying because I realized I wanted something as badly as a child, and now I can't. I know that it is selfish of me to not consider the other methods, but it's something I can't explain. I wanted to feel it moving inside me. Feel it grow strong depending on me while I carried it for nine months until it was grown enough to breathe on their own. If I can't carry it, I wasn't going to put someone else through that burden. Initially, it was something that I didn't want, but in the end it was denied altogether. I never had the choice to have a child grow within me. It was something that I played with in my mind and now recently was the one thing that I can't stop thinking about. It was becoming an obsession, one that won't let me go. It was the fact that I won't have a boy or a girl that looks like me, smiles like Clint, or runs like me. Gone within a few seconds after the doctor informed us with little compassion. It was sudden and harmful. Harsh. Every movement of having a family was destroyed between a manila folder and my barren state. All hope desecrated in the white room that reeked of disinfectant.

The illusion of the perfect family in my mind was shattered. And that I think that is what hurts most of all.

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Reviews are welcome and appreciated :)


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